Third Person's POV Ever since Dariusz had died to save him, Celestine had become Damon's burden-his guilt made flesh. Years ago, before the storm, the three of them had been inseparable. Dariusz, charming and brilliant, with a laugh that could calm even the fiercest Alpha; Celestine, radiant and impulsive, adored by everyone; and Damon, whose sense of duty had always come before his heart. That was why they'd gone out to sea together that night. The waves had been high, but Dariusz had smiled as though he could tame the storm itself. He'd always been that way-drawn to danger, a wolf chasing the horizon. When the storm hit and the ship began to sink, Dariusz had fought like a god. He saved Celestine first-dragged her through the freezing surf to a shattered lifeboat, his strength waning with each pull. He saved the others too. And when Damon went under, pulled down by a broken mast, Dariusz had gone back. He'd gone back-and never resurfaced. When Celestine awoke days later, she learned what had happened. The shock broke her. She'd tried to follow him into the waves more than once. Each time, Moonvale's healers brought her back-shaken, empty, her wolf howling for a mate that was no longer there. Until one night, after another failed attempt, she woke from near drowning... and the first face she saw was Damon's. Her shattered mind had filled in the missing piece. Dariusz. The one who had saved her. The one who would always protect her. Damon had tried, in the beginning, to tell her the truth. He'd tried to bring healers, mind-menders, to coax her back from the edge. But Alpha Remus and Luna Evelyn had forbidden it. Celestine, they said, could not endure another shock. Her wolf was too fragile. The healing had to be gradual-or she'd lose herself completely. And so, Damon stayed. Bound by guilt, bound by memory. Every time she called him Dariusz, he felt the weight of the sea again-the cold, the roar, the sound of a life slipping away beneath the waves. And every time she smiled at him with those luminous eyes, he thought of Aysel Vale, standing alone in the rain, unaware of how deeply the past still chained him. He was the Blackwood Alpha-strongest in the East-yet powerless to free himself from the ghost of another wolf's love. Damon had once sworn under the sacred moon to protect Aysel. But oaths made in moonlight often burned like silver when broken. After Dariusz's death in the Sea of Storms, the packs called it destiny. Yet Damon knew better. Dariusz had died saving him. The weight of that debt was carved into his bones - and into Celestine Ward's madness. She no longer recognized the world as it was. In her broken mind, she saw only her lost mate. And when she looked upon Damon, she saw Dariusz reborn. The healers said her spirit had fractured under grief, that the scent of the sea and the sight of silver light could drive her into a frenzy. But no healer dared tell her the truth: that her beloved was gone. The Moonvale Pack forbade it. And so Damon bore the lie. He stayed at her side when her heat surged without control, when her wolf howled for the one who would never answer again. She would cling to him, call him by another name - "Dariusz, my moon, my mate"-and he would lower his head, letting her scent wash over him like chains. He could not refuse her. Not when he owed her so much. Not when every breath he took reminded him that Dariusz had died to save him. Even his father, Lord Blackwood, had said coldly, "Our pack cannot raise an heir accused of ingratitude. You owe her blood and peace." The Moonvale Pack had long since turned their grief into accusation. Aysel, the true daughter of Alpha Remus, stood alone against it. She was born of the same blood as Celestine, yet treated like an outcast. Every wolf in Moonvale whispered that Aysel killed Yuna. And so, Aysel carried the stain. She had no fortune, no allies, only the fierce pride of a wolf who had already lost everything. Celestine, though a fostered ward, was Moonvale's shining pearl, wrapped in gold and protected by sympathy. The pack's favor, the lands, even Fenrir's loyalty - all bent toward her. But Damon's loyalty burned where it should not. He was bound to Aysel by an unspoken claim - two hearts raised beneath the same moon, a love hidden between rival packs. Their bond had always been fragile, but real. Until guilt devoured him. After Dariusz's death, every eye turned upon him. And when Celestine began to wither, when her wolf's cries shook the halls, the elders demanded Damon's presence. He had resisted - at first. But when the Luna of Moonvale herself said softly, "Stay with her, Damon. Your presence calms her wolf. She believes you are her mate... let her believe it a while longer," - he surrendered.And when he did, he asked only one thing: "Do not tell Aysel." Because he knew her. He knew the wild purity in her soul, the way she saw love as sacred as the moon's vow. To her, deception was betrayal. Even pity was poison. So the packs lied together. Aysel noticed the change. The distant calls in the night. The scent of another female on Damon's coat. The missed moons, the silences, the way he avoided her heat rituals. Still, she said nothing. Until the night she followed his scent through the frostbound forest to the Moonvale amphitheater - where she saw him cradle Celestine Ward beneath the falling snow, whispering softly, pressing his lips to her brow. Celestine trembled in his arms, her wolf on the edge of madness. "Why does she call you so often, Damon?" she asked, voice breaking. "Celestine Ward - she calls and calls. Tell me, what is she to you?" Her voice was petulant, trembling, childish. Her eyes glowed fever-bright. Damon's back was to the door. He froze as the cold air shifted - he felt Aysel's scent. Her moonlit presence cut through him like a blade. Celestine pressed against him, seeking warmth. His hands trembled, but he did not push her away. "She's nothing," he said at last, voice strangled. "Just a sister of the pack." Aysel stood in the doorway, her claws digging into her palms. Sister. The word tore through her like silver. All the signs she had ignored now burned in her mind - the secretive messages, the scent of lilies, the unreturned howls beneath the full moon. It had always been leading to this. Celestine had taken everything. Even the only male Aysel had ever trusted. She left without a word. Later, Damon came to her. His eyes were red from sleepless nights, his scent heavy with regret. "Aysel," he whispered, "it wasn't what it looked like. Celestine sees me as Dariusz. Her wolf doesn't know truth from dream. She's ill, and the healers said-""-that you must play her mate?" Aysel's voice was low, trembling, dangerous. "That's your excuse?" "She's dying!" he snapped. "You think I want this? You think I want her clinging to me while I-" He stopped himself, pain breaking through the Alpha façade. "If you leave me now, I'll lose both of you." Her golden eyes met his. "You already did." He tried again, desperate. "Your father, your mother - they all knew. I begged them not to tell you, because I knew what you'd do. You'd run. You'd burn it all down." A bitter laugh escaped her. "So you all decided I didn't deserve the truth." Silence stretched. The moon rose higher. The wolves howled in the distance - an echo of grief that felt almost like prophecy. Her voice turned to a whisper. "If Celestine never heals, Damon... will you always go when she calls?" He faltered. "Her mind is mending. Soon she'll remember-" "Answer me." He couldn't. His eyes said everything. Aysel stepped back, the last light leaving her expression. "Then you already made your choice." He caught her wrist, claws barely sheathed. "Aysel, please. Don't give up on me." Her voice was cold moonlight. "You did first." That night, the bond between them - once silver-threaded and sacred - snapped with a soundless shatter that only wolves could feel. Afterward, the Blackwood heir stood alone beneath the Moonvale cliffs as snow fell silently over the graves of the lost. His wolf howled once for the female he had betrayed - and then no more. Because in the world of wolves, love was not enough. Loyalty was the true curse.